


I'll Give You More than the Sun

by tamagochie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, High School, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Romance, Teenagers, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagochie/pseuds/tamagochie
Summary: "Hallie Reed, I've lost you twice in this life time. I'm not going to risk losing you again."
Relationships: Peter Parker/Original Female Characters, Tom Holland (Actor)/Peter Parker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though I've been writing fan fiction on Wattpad, this is the first time I've ever posted my work here.   
> This is also my first time writing a Peter Park fic because my specialty is Harry Styles LOL   
> But I hope you enjoy! Please enjoy :3

My gaze idly rests on my freshly painted bedroom wall as I had been doing since an hour ago. Regardless of popular opinion, watching paint dry isn’t as bad as it’s been made out to be. It’s the only thing that stops time. Sometimes I even like to imagine myself as the paint; taking my time and blending into the rest of myself. Somehow, it helps me feel whole, like I’m becoming a better person, or new one. That I’m no longer the old, faded out version of myself that’s been chipping away for the last few years. 

It’s early in the morning; sometime half past six. A cool breeze picks up, and the curtains are billowing. 

From where I stand, I can hear the usual bustling streets of Queens’; the screams of every other taxi driver to “move over”, the honking of every other car caged in its traffic line, and the occasional meowing of the neighborhood cat. 

I relieve myself a deep, weary sigh as I stand from my bed; I’m not looking forward to today nor am I prepared for it. I had spent last night rummaging through the remains of the moving boxes, hoping to calm the anticipation of today. 

It didn’t. 

“Haaallie!” James calls for me, his sing-song tone echoing down the hall and through my open door. At least one of us is excited about today. “You’re gonna be late, c’mon now! Let’s get goin’!” 

Rising from the dip I’ve created for myself in my bed, I reach for my backpack, zipping it closed and swinging the strap onto my shoulder. I meander through the mess in my room, walking towards the wall where the framed picture of my parents proudly hangs. Kissing the tips of my fingers, I press it against the glass, saying my goodbye for the day. 

I trudge down the hallway; the apartment is just as bad my bedroom, maybe even worse. Heaps of moving boxes both opened and unopened scatter athwart the living room. My eyes sweeps through until it stops to James. Coming from the kitchen, he walks over to me while holding a travel mug, steam rising from it. From where I stand, I can smell the freshly brewed coffee. 

His lips curve into a smile, his mismatched aging eyes gleaming at me as he hands me the mug. I take a deep breath, taking in all the steam and letting it fill my lungs, heightening all my senses. James says I’m addict, but everyone has their medicine, and this is mine. 

“All set?” He questions, running his brittle hands through his salt and pepper hair. My lips fall into a line. Even if I were to concentrate on every muscle in my face, I still wouldn’t be able to muster a believable smile. Not him, and most certainly not for myself. “You got your parents with you?” Nodding my head, I raise the golden locket secured around my neck. “Good, good. You must be set then?” 

I don’t have the courage to speak—not enough to even lessen James’ worries. He’s been good to me. He’s always been good to me, but just for today, I can’t return the favor. I can only offer another nod. 

“Look,” The warmth of his breath breeze against my cheeks when shifts the volumes of his voice, speaking softly. “If it’s hard, then just come home. If you think you can’t handle traditional school, I’ll pull you out of there and you can go back to home school and helping me out in the labs, but please give this a try.” James releases me from his hold, resting his hands on my shoulders. His weight adds to the burden in my knees. “This kids are smart, Hal. Probably smarter than me. Midtown High is the best school for kids like you!” 

“I’m sure I already know everything they do,” I mumble, looking away. 

“We already had this conversation, Hal.” 

“Alright, alright.” I raise my hands up to my side, backing away and swiping the keys from the bowl. 

“Midtown has the best programs!” He reasons, his excitement bubbling over his words. “Like, shit, they even do these yearly trips abroad for their science program! C’mon, Hallie, what more could you ask for?” 

I hold my tongue, deciding against the thought of giving him a headache and saving it for later. 

In my silence, thinking he’s won me over with his cleverness, James stands to the side, and opens the door for me. I brace myself, sucking in a breath as I take my first step into what James likes to call, “The Adventures of Teenhood,” whatever the hell that meant. 

As I arrive at the last foot of the staircase, James calls out to me once more, and I turn around. His eyes are gleaming as he flashes me smile. “Kick some ass, Hal! Make some memories!” I stick my tongue and shoo him away before moving across the street. 

This’ll be one hell of a day. 

The sun looks down over Queens, gracing the city with her light. I draw a breath and close my eyes for just a second, admiring the crisp, cool air. It hasn’t been tainted by the smoke of traffic, the stench of garbage, and the fortuitous, lingering smell of urine. 

It’s only ten minute walk from the apartment to the station. A little of my apprehensiveness begins to spill over, terrified of the thought that I might get off on the wrong station even though I went through it many times with James where I’d go and where I’d end up. 

Luckily for me, I find a group of kids my age walking in the same direction; I even spot a kid wearing a Midtown sweatshirt, so I place my bet on him to take me where I need to go. 

The platform is steaming with body head radiating from every other person in the crowd. The lack of airflow intensifies, and a little sweat drips from my brow. New York heat was never kind, especially those who took the subway. Though in hindsight, I am the one wearing a sweater and overalls. 

Squeezing between strangers, I manage to enter the train. I find a spot beside a pole near the exit. Leaning against it, I look around for my Midtown guide in the midst of the crowd, but the cart is mobbed with passengers and I ultimately give up. 

I twiddle the locket between my fingers, trying to subside my nerves in hopes that I won’t get off the wrong stop, and get lost in the city. But knowing me, the statistical probability manifesting into a reality is highly likely. 

As the train comes to a gradual halt, I take a deep breath and brace myself once more. I know this is the right station, but my sheltered anxiety tells me otherwise, so I have to force myself to start moving before the doors close on me. 

The platform is busy—just as busy as the New York traffic, but the only difference is its moving. Suddenly I don’t need to force myself to move, I float along the stream of commuters hustling to get to their point B. Me and my lungs are overwhelmed by the mix of cigarette smoke, perfume, a little bit of pee, and freshly grilled hot dogs. 

It’s not long till I’m ambling down the sidewalk, looking for people my age heading towards Midtown, and eventually I do. Fidgeting with the straps of my backpack, I trail behind the wide spread of students as I keep myself at bay.

A whole night’s worth of trying to keep myself together gone to waste in a single moment. 

And there it is, Midtown High standing proudly as the morning light gleams against the bricks. It looks exactly like the pictures on their webpage; there’s fresh cut grass that stretches from one end of the street to the other, a tall fence towering before the school, keeping out all the unworthy minds out of sight, and a parking lot that has enough space to hold another two or three homes. 

“Pretty sight, isn’t it?” The feminine disembodied voice causes me to jolt in place, spilling my coffee just a bit. 

Twisting my head, I find a tall, slender girl standing beside me. With her shoulders slouched and her hands shoved into her pockets, her gaze rests on at the sight of Midtown as the student swarm up the steps and into the entrance. 

Her long, kinky hair falls down to her back, a few strands floating in the wind. She’s wearing a dark green wool sweater with tattered dark jeans. Looking at her makes me sweat, but then again, I, too, am wearing layers. 

“It’s said this school was built on the backs of minorities to achieve the white American dream to further enhance society.” She says it quite matter-of-factly, seeming very confident to me. She finally turns her head to me, smirking as she nonchalantly introduces herself to me, “Michelle Jones.” 

She sticks her hand out to me and I take with my own. “Uhh, Hallie Reed.” I manage my best smile, holding in any trace of dread and fear from my face.  
“Well, welcome to Midtown.” Letting go of my hand, her lips finally curve to a smile and she begins to walk ahead of me. “Wanna start walking?” Frantically blinking, I try not to waste any more time idly standing and pace to Michelle’s side. “Also, gimme your sched, and I’ll see if you’re lucky enough to have any classes with me.” 

Unzipping my backpack, I pull out the piece of paper that holds the fate of sophomore year and hand it over to Michelle. She pulls it out of my hand and scans through it rather quickly as we stride towards the entrance of the school. 

“Gross, you got Mrs. Bell for English Lit.” Michelle grimaces in disgust, her tone worrying me. “Should I be scared?” 

She shakes her head, “Nah, she’s just old and talks slower than New York traffic. Pacing can be quite difficult for her, so bear with. But other than that, the rest of your teachers are okay. Lucky you, we have two classes together after lunch—for today at least. But for B Days, we only have one.” 

Fear must’ve found its settling in the outlines of my face because it doesn’t take her long to assure me she’d at least walk me to my first class. 

My stress heightens as we charge further into the belly of the beast. With on hand on my shoulder, Michelle moves us against the current of students who were also bustling to get to their classes. To ease me, she goes on about her theories on Midtown, but I could barely hear her over the announcements through the PA system and the chatter of every other student passing us by. 

The hall is lined with cream colored lockers, posters plastered on the walls about Science Camp, Activist Movements, and other clubs I might potentially join. I do take a mental note of the Decathlon Club poster we pass by. 

“Here we are…” Michelle suddenly stops, towering over me. “Welcome to Mr. Aubrey’s History class. Personally, I love this teacher. He’s pretty cool, and most of the time, it doesn’t sound like he’s teaching. This is the only class I don’t fall asleep in.” 

I chuckle at her words as she hands me back my schedule, unaware she had kept it with her the whole time. 

“I’ll meet up with you at lunch and introduce you to the gang.” Fear quickly churns in my stomach, but begins to morph into excitement. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought. “But for now, perastika! It’s Greek for—“ 

“Good luck—Get well, actually.” I smile, cutting her off. “Perastika!” 

She salutes to me before walking away, and I draw a breath to pull myself together. Looking into the classroom, my breath hitches in my throat and I’m back to square one. 

Dodging through the space between the every other person and conversation, I take an open spot by the window that isn’t all the way in the back of the class, but isn’t so close either. 

I slump against the plastic backrest of my chair, relaxing as I look around the room and watching students chattering among themselves; talking about what they did over the summer, laugh at each other’s jokes, and a fair few already making plans for the weekend. 

Watching them makes me shrink into a smaller state, and I can’t help the feeling of wanting to grab my backpack and walk out the room. The only thing refraining me from doing so is the promise I held for James, that I would at least try. 

I made it into the building, I think this constitutes as trying. 

The bell sounds and the students clamor to the seats. 

Toying with my pencil, my eyes shift to the front of the room. A brawny man with a tweed jacket steps in the classroom with his head held high. His dreadlocks fall down to his back when he turns to the whiteboard, scribbling his name. 

Smiling dimples deep, his wide eyes scan all the way to the very back of the room. 

“Good morning, class!” His words slip smoothly from his lips. “Ya’ll probably know me already, but just in case, my name is Mr. Aubrey and I’ll be your teacher for History 101 this sem. I’d like to think I’m pretty cool, you know. Just don’t step on my toes. Be good to me, and I’ll return the favor. How does that sound?”  
The class hums in agreement, and Mr. Aubrey circles around at the front of his desk, nonchalantly leaning against it. 

“I don’t believe in diving into learning on the very first day, so we’ll just vibe with each other for now. You ask me questions, and I’ll ask you return.” Some of us shift in our seat at the thought of sharing. 

I am some of us. 

Mr. Aubrey must’ve read the room because he starts first, talking about his summer trip to Fiji with his wife and kids. He talks about the white sand beaches and the summer air all the while managing to engage the rest of us in his conversation. 

I begin to understand why Michelle likes him so much. 

I hear the sound of metal scraping against the titled floor and know someone’s occupied the seat next to me. 

“Holy shit,” I twist my attention to a plump, Filipino boy. His eyes twinkle at me while his lips slightly part. He’s a bit odd. A long, oversize flannel drapes over his faded Star Wars t-shirt. His hair sticking to the subtle sweat accumulated on his forehead and brow. Even out of breath, he still carries a smile. 

“Holy shit.” He repeats in a whisper, not minding Mr. Aubrey speaking at the front. I stare at him quizzically, wondering if it’s all he can fathom to say. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?” 

“Oh, c’mon, you couldn’t have forgotten about me, have you?!” Still in a whisper, he inches closer to me, stepping into the last inches I had of personal space.  
I squint my eyes at him as if the answer is written somewhere on his button nose or his puffy cheeks. 

“We lived in the same neighborhood!” He exclaims a little too loud, almost drawing everyone’s attention. He’s mindful of his volume, so he falls back into a whisper. 

“We played together every day! You, me, and Peter! Remember, you used to call me Frostman because I accidentally left the class hamster out in the snow!” 

And in a quick moment, the light bulb above my head shatters. I had completely forgot about Ned. 

“Oh…my god.” He nods his head reverently, his lips curve into a smile. “Ned! Oh shit, you’re Ned!” 

“Is there something you guys wanna share to the class?” Our attention snaps to Mr. Aubrey whom we’ve completely forgotten was speaking. 

I sheepishly shake my head while Ned speaks up. “No, Sir! We didn’t mean to disrupt you. Please carry on.” Mr. Aubrey winks us away before continuing on; all the while Ned smiles cheekily and turns to me.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” He shifts his whole body to face me, and I don’t mind how much space he’s taking up in my personal bubble. I’m too invested in catching up with someone whose been blurred into my memory. “It’s been what? How many years?” 

“A long time, I suppose.” I chuckle lightly, smiling. 

“Long enough for you to forget what I look like, huh?” 

“Sorry,” He waves me off and thinks little of it. “Don’t worry. If it makes you feel any better, I completely forgot about you until I saw you today. But isn’t that cool! We’re in the same histo class! God, there’s so much you’ve missed out on! Peter’ll be siked to see you again, and you gotta meet the gang, Hal!” 

The two pieces click together when I ponder over the possible connection. “By any chance, is Michelle in your gang?” 

His eyes smile wider and he nods once more. “You know Mj?” 

“Uhh…yeah, I guess so. I met her on the way in. She seems pretty cool.” 

“She is,” He agrees gleefully, pulling out his phone from his pocket and swiping his finger across the screen. “Here’s a picture of us during our summer Europe trip.” He turns his phone to me, revealing a group of them in Italy, wearing colorful, feathered masks. 

I smile at the thought and the hope that someday, I could be in a group picture too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing on!  
> I hope you're enjoying it!
> 
> I'll be posting all my updated chapters within a few days.

The rest of the class time is spent in whispered exchanges between Ned and I while Mr. Aubrey continues on and asks every other student willing to participate in the conversation about their summer vacation. Every once in a while, the class will fall into silence, but Mr. Aubrey naturally shifts into a different topic or sometimes even a joke if it fit the atmosphere.

And every once in a while laughter thunders throughout the room, but we become too engrossed in our own conversation to even pretend to pay attention let alone fake a laugh.

Time goes by too fast and Histo class comes to a close. But before Ned and I part ways, we exchange numbers so it’ll be easier for him to find me at lunch.

My bubbling excitement for later quickly fades when I’m in English Lit. Though I would hate to verify lowly talk on someone I’ve barely gotten to know, Michelle was right: Mrs. Belly talks slower than she moves.

It makes me feel like the minutes have gradually blended itself into an unrecognizable time loop that no bathroom break excuse could ever save me from.

But because I’m lucky to have my parents look out for me from the sky, I receive a message from James in the middle of Mrs. Bell’s bland life story.  
He sends a selfie of himself in his official Stark lab coat. His wrinkles smile at me, his teeth shining beneath the florescent lights of the lab as he holds a peace sign in the air.

_At least one of us is undeniably happy today._

**James**  
I hope you’re alright! Have you made any friends yet?

I’ve only been here for 3 hours, more or less.  
But yes, I’m doing okay.

 **James**  
So, have you made friends?

Ohmygod yeah I made friends.  
Two, actually, if it makes u happy.

IDK if you remember Ned Leeds,  
But he goes here & we have class together.

 **James**  
Oh, the little fat kid that froze your hamster?

It was the class hamster, but yes.

**James**  
Well, good! Keep it up!  
I just wanted to check on you, ykw.  
Gotta be a great parental model.

can't call urself a parental model if u don't act like one!

 **James**  
Because I’m an adult, I’m going to be mature and ignore that!  
Bye! See you later tonight! <3

I bury my eyes to the back of my head when I read James’ childish retort, slumping back into my chair as my ears bleed into the extra effort it puts in to follow Mrs. Bell.

I’ve never read the Bible, but even I’m beginning to think her life is longer than the time it took to write it.

Luckily for me, lunch comes to my rescue sooner than I expect. But I guess that's what happens with time when you're stuck in purgatory.

Flowing along the stream of students perishing at their need to eat, I mind where I walk and head towards the cafeteria.

Reaching for my phone in my pocket, I fall in line for the food. Fumbling with the keys on the screen, I message Ned and tell him where I am. It doesn’t take him too long to reply back, telling me he sees me.

I turn around and find him standing just a few people behind, still holding the smile from Histo class.

“Wait for me when you’re done!” He shouts, and I give him a thumbs up.

I observe the girl beside me, how she points to the food she wants and the lady with a mole stands in front of her puts it on her plate.

_This shouldn’t me too difficult, Hallie. You just have to point at what you want and they’ll give it to you._  
_It's kinda like the cheap buffets James always brings you. So, let's not fuck it up._

The lady shifts her gaze to me once she’s done with her. I muster a friendly smile, but she continues on with a deadpan expression.

“What’ll be, hun?” Her Boston accent is thick and dry; her voice scratch to the surface as her words struggle to slip past her lips. It leaves me under the impression she recently swallowed a box of cigarettes before starting her shift.

The outlines of her face contort in irritation as she loses her patience with me. Her whole aura is off putting and only makes me feel more anxious. But I hold my smile, pointing to what I want. “The…uh…macaroni please.”

“What’ll be your side?”

“Side?”

“Yes, girlie, your side. Mashed potatoes or peas?”

“Mashed potatoes, I guess...?”

“You guess?” I quickly learn she isn’t the kind to hide what she feels; and what she feels is annoyance.

My heart is shitting its pants.

Rolling her eyes, she dumps the mashed potato onto my plate and grabs a chocolate milk carton before placing both on my tray.

When I finally get to pay, I let all the air flow out of me. I feel like a balloon with too much air. If I have to go through something as terrifying as mean lunch lady, I just my pop.

But I can practically hear James’ oh-so-wise voice butting into my anxiety, _“You’re gonna be experiencing this for a while, so might as well buckle up, kiddo.”_

“Ooh! You got mashed potatoes?” Ned groans as if not getting the mashed potatoes had been his ultimate failure, and my soul gravitates back to my body. “Damn it, why didn’t I see that?”

I laugh lightly, still recovering from my encounter with mean lunch lady. And I guess Ned notices because he tells me she isn’t the worst thing about the Midtown. And though it’s supposed to helpful, my brain jumps to the conclusion that I will most definitely die within the first month of the school year.

Trailing closely behind Ned, we weave through the crowd. I don’t feel as anxious as I did earlier when Michelle walked me to class. I try and normalize the feel of crowded spaces just so I can tell James that I was able to check of two things from the many notes he gave me last night.

1\. Make some friends.  
2\. Don’t let your anxiety make you miss out on good things.

It’s not long when both spot Michelle sitting at a deserted table, her face buried into the pages of a book while a familiar boy--a boy I'm fully aware is Peter Parker--types away on his laptop.

My palms feel a little sweaty and I worry that my tray might slip out of my hands because the thought of seeing someone who was the closest thing I had to a family was surreal to me.

Because of the relationship with our parents, I had always been closest to Peter. They knew each other even before we were born. They met in college, studying the same course and burning with the same passions for biophysics. And as fate would have played it out to be, they'd eventually lad the same job in OSCORP.

Their work would pile into deepest depths of the night and spill into the earliest hours of the morning. Because of this, I'd always find myself sleeping over at Uncle Ben's house with Peter. We'd play along the streets with Ned until the sun kissed the horizon and run back inside the house, eating whatever foreign recipe Aunt May managed not to burn.

With our papered versions of Mjolnir, Iron Man’s mask, and Hawk Eye’s bow and arrows, the three of us had each other’s back through thick and thin. Even more so when my parents as well as Peter’s died in the plane crash.

Though, I leaned on Peter more than Ned because nothing screeches friendship more than losing your parents at a young age.

We did keep contact for a little while after I moved away, but it kinda just stopped. There wasn’t really an explanation—I never found out why Peter and Ned stopped writing to me.

I really wish they hadn’t; I ended up resenting them for a while because of it.

“’Sup, guys!” Ned greets, kicking the table lightly. Michelle pulls away from her book slowly, her eyes glaring at Ned. Peter jolts in his place, pulling out one of his earphones, “Ned, what the hell?”

“You can be mad all you want, Peter, but _I_ found _our_ best friend.” Ned sing-songs his pride as he points tilts his head to the ceiling.

Peter puzzled demeanor falls to a shock once his gaze shifts to me. “H— _Oh_ —Holy shi--“

“It’s Hallie!” Ned yells before Peter can even fathom a sentence. A few heads turn our way, but I don’t mind it. At least not as much as I usually would.

Shrugging off his backpack, Ned sets the tray down and pats the open space next to him. I take it as a signal to sit beside him and I do so quickly.

Peter’s staring burns into my skin and I avoid it by greeting Michelle. Like a violent tide, anxiety crashes into the peaceful shore I was comfortably resting on. I feel like running back into my cave, away from the noise and away from Peter’s inability to stop staring.

I don’t even notice Ned’s attempt to make plans for us to hang out after school.

“ _Sooo_?” Ned sings, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s still carrying his smile. “Whatta ya think? Let's get the band back together and hangout after school?”

“I think Peter should stop staring at Hallie like she lied about being a superhero from another earth just so she could steal a pair glasses.” Michelle’s oddly specific analogy earns a rather upset ‘hey’ from Peter and a scolding ' _MJ_ ' from Ned. “What? Look it's a touching reunion n all, but even I can tell Hallie’s too uncomfortable to even carry a thought because Peter won’t stop staring.”

“O-Oh, sorry.” Peter mumbles, bowing his head from me.

Ned pats my back as an attempt to somehow calm my nerves. It’s weird, but makes me crack a smile.  
Looking over to Michelle, she winks at me, mouthing the words, _I gotchu_.

Clearing my throat, a small chuckle slips past my lips to clear the awkward tension. “I-I’m—I’m game to hang out.”

From my peripheral, I catch Peter’s head shoot back up; and Ned doesn’t waste another breath to widen his eyes. He looks at me like I’ve given him all the good answers to life.

“Hallie Reed, welcome back to the breakfast club.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Ned, ya know we've never called ourselves the breakfast—" Ned groans at Peter, rolling his eyes at the unwillingness of his best friend to flow with him.

" _Peter._ " He chastises, lulling his head back in frustration.

As Ned leads us down the hall to our next class, he nests his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Just vibe with it, dude! We're not a trio anymore, we're a group! Now MJ won't feel so left out anymore."

"And why would _I_ feel left out?" Michelle raises a brow, crossing her arms in question.

"Duh, because Peter and I are the _ultimate_ duo."

Michelle scoffs while I bite back a laugh. Though it's merely the first day, the more time I spend with Ned, the more I'm pulled to old flashbacks to when we were kids.

Ned was my very first understanding of light because he shined brighter than anyone I ever knew or would ever come to know.

Though he wasn't the best looking nor the best dressed kid in our school, he held confidence in the palms of his hand and kept a little extra in his pocket just in case he runs out.

He always held his head to the sky, his eyes twinkling beneath the sun. And with every word fleeing from his lips carried a tune. Not like he was trying to sing, but it did sound like he was about to. I guess that's what happens when you let happiness lift you from the ground.

At the very least, I know time has left one stone unturned in the sea of change.

"So, it's agreed, Pete, we're going to your place?" Ned slumps onto the chair beside Peter, rubbing away at his nose while Michelle and I take a seat just behind them. I watch as Peter furrows his brows, giving Ned a look. " _Dude."_

" _What_?"

"If it's too much to ask of you, Peter, we can all go to mine..." They twist their attention to me and I feel my stomach do a backflip. I don't even know if I'm allowed to bring people to the apartment. It's not exactly in its best shape.

"Just...erm... excuse the mess," I add, nervously laughing. "It's been only a couple of months since we uhh...moved in, but we only started unpacking—like _really_ unpacking—a while ago."

"I don't mind." Michelle chimes, giving me a comforting smile.

Ned shrugs his shoulders, his lip pouting. "I don't mind either! What about you Pete?" Peter gapes his lips open, but Ned answers for him before he could even form a sound. "See, Pete doesn't mind. It's settled!"

Before he could even protest heels clacking against the titled floor echo into the room, gradually silencing the chatter.

A woman who couldn't possibly be over the age of thirty-five strides to the front of the room. As intense as her aura may be, she greets us with a friendly smile.

While the rest of her blonde hair is pulled tightly into a bun, two loose strands frame her chiseled bone structure. Her eyes carry a storm; just by one look, you'd be struck by lightning.

She looks like a model. A very terrifying model.

Her piercing grey eyes fall to me—at least I think it does. But when I notice Peter stiffen in his seat, I get a weird sense it isn't me she's eyeing at all. Clearing her throat, Peter leans over to Ned, whispering to him.

Pulling back, he shoots his hand to the ceiling."Uhh, can I use the bathroom?"

"Go ahead." Shooing him off, Peter jumps from his seat and sprints out the door.

And without saying another word, she moves over to her desk, takes a seat, and reads whatever's in the folder she carried in with her.

Squinting my eyes, I slowly turn my head to Michelle who doesn't seem to be phased at all. But when I look to Ned, he's a dead giveaway that something's up--all conscious and rigid.

"Miss...c-can I use the bathroom...too?" Ned sheepishly asks, his shoulders rising to his ears like he was a turtle retreating back into its shell.

Without batting an eye or look away from where she trains her eyes, she waves him off. And just like Peter, Ned quickly scurries from his seat and sprints out the door.

"Guess guys like tuh go in pairs too, huh?" Michelle jokes nonchalantly, smirking to me.

I nod my head slowly, wondering if it's really just me that finds it dubious. But then again, I've never been to an actual school since I was ten, and maybe this is what free period looks like in all those movies I watched.

The entire time is spent swimming in silence. Not a single sight of Ned or Peter since they left.

Some found it a bit odd to do nothing. Their faces contort in confusion like their waiting for something to happen. But for everyone else who are more than happy to be left unbothered in the name of learning, they scroll through their phones or whisper amongst one another.

Michelle eventually shifts her desk closer to mine and tries to make conversation. Though it's apparent to me she's not really one to naturally initiate it, she tries. Even with her calm and collected act, I can see she's just as awkward as me.

Maybe even more so.

She tells me her trip to Europe over the summer with the school's science decathlon team, and the whole thing with Mysterio.

I comment on the bad luck they faced because it seemed like everywhere they went, some monster would rise from the depths of the earth and erupt chaos.

"It was hella crazy," She sighs, shaking her head. "Least I can say I've met death and defeated it more than once."

I chuckle and jokingly praise her for her bravery all the while she casually shrugs it off. "Your parents must be _so_ proud, Michelle. _Oh_ , to have a daughter smashing the crap out of a flying projector with a medieval weapon."

"You're probably feelin' a bit honored to be in my presence." She leans back, stretching her arms to the other side. "Call me MJ, by the way. No one really calls me Michelle 'cept the teachers."

The only time our supposed teacher speaks is when she takes attendance. For the rest of time, she sat in silence, reading whatever it was she had her eyes on.

Peter and Ned came back when there was only five minutes left of class. Sweating dripping down their brows as they huff for air. I stare at the pair quizzically, wondering if I should ask, but something in me says I wouldn't get an actual answer.

After plotting where to meet after classes, Mic— _MJ_ and I head to Gym class.

She tells me what I could expect. That it'll usually start with a run through of what we'd do for the sem, and then watch a motivational clip from Captain America himself. She says it's a bit depressing to have to watch a guy who's disappeared to tell you to keep pressing on life.

She adds that she never really participated in P.E., but always got average grades, so if I was the kind of person who didn't really admire it, it'd be an easy pass.

By the time we get there, a small part of the bleachers are already filled with students. Without meaning to, I inch a little closer to MJ, gripping the sleeve of her sweater in between my finger and thumb.

She assures me I'm alright and we climb up the steps, taking a seat at the very back.

A middle aged, burly man that stands just a couple of inches taller than the TV stand blows on the whistle resting around his neck.

"Afternoon," His guttural Midwestern accent entwines itself in his lazy greeting. With a clipboard in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other, he burps to the class. "Mah name is Coach John Marley, and _no,_ ah am _not_ related tuh _that_ Marley. Like that _Bob_ Marley."

"Well, sir," A disembodied voice from the front chimes in. " _Obviously,_ you're white. So, you kinda can't be related--"

"And you're brown, _young man_." He retorts sassily, cutting him off.

I squint my eyes at him as my mouth faintly hangs open. I can't figure out if he's for real or if it's a gimmick. He sounds as much as he acts like those cowboys from the Saturday morning shows I used to watch as a kid.

Even as a P.E. teacher, his hair is slicked back with the help of his sweat and gel. A glossy varsity jacket proudly hangs over his shoulders, matching it with navy blue sweatpants and branded trainers.

_Sounds like a cowboy, dresses like a personal trainer._

"Eugene Thompson, ah heard you'd be in mah class." He swipes his tongue across his lips, glaring at Eugene with judgmental eyes. "Ah say it now and say it once, young man. Ah don't like you, so don't bother tryna get slick with me. It ain't gonna change."

"I-Its uh, Flash, sir." He hesitantly corrects, ignoring everything else Coach Marley briefed him with.

"Yeah, well, ah don't care." Clearing his throat, he folds the plastic wrap over the rest of his sandwich before tucking it into his jacket pocket.

He tells us what to expect during the sem. We'll be focusing on his favorite sport: volleyball. How he'd teach us all the things we needed to know—passing, receiving, and the technique of it all. And for our finals, we'd be split into two teams and play against each other.

Though everyone else seems to be excited, I watch from my peripheral as MJ buries her face into her knees, mumbling in misery.

Lightly patting her back, I try to comfort her.

"The gods hate me." She mutters, her head sinking deeper into her knees.

Time breezes through once us as we indulge ourselves in Captain America's pep talk. If it were any other given day, it'd be cheesy. But it had been a year since the world fell to the ground and mourned his disappearance. Some still even mourning.

It's refreshing and as corny it may be, I let his words seep into the deepest parts of my mind and hold it close to my heart. When he inspires the class to " _Keep on moving, and pushing through the battles in life,_ " I take it seriously. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd be posting all the recent chapters in "a few days", but I honestly got way too excited so here's everything.

**_James_ **

_U have ppl over??_

_On ur first day?!_

_Maybe Thor really does hear my prayers :’)_

_i just wanna give a heads up_

_in case you come home early…_

_Wait ur not mad?_

**_James_ **

_Are u kidding? I’m grateful!!_

_But gr8 timing bc I’ll be late_

_ur gonna just have to fend for urselves._

_we’ll probably order pizza o/ sumthing_

**_James_ **

_I’m so happy for u!_

_Thank Thor!!_

_Uhh…yeah thank thor?_

**_James_ **

_I gotta go now!_

_See you later! Luv u Hallie! <3_

I sigh in relief as I’m graced with James’ permission.

Setting my phone on the counter, I grab bottles of water for everyone from the fridge and wander back into the living room.

Though I’m rather grateful for the company, my embarrassment for the mess James and I left it in has become unhinged. Every time an opened box, a pile of scrunched up newspaper, or a pile of clothes fall into my line of sight, my body folds into itself.

But at least important things like the furniture, and a few pictures canvasing throughout the apartment saves it from being too bleak.

_At least it’s sprinkling with a little character._

Taking a seat on the floor next to Ned, I hand out the bottles. His round eyes as much as his thumb are occupied as he swiftly screens through the channels, cutting off whatever’s showing mid-sentence.

MJ makes herself at home by sinking into the cushions of the couch, showing off her matching Joan of Arc socks as she balances her foot on her knee. She pesters Ned to pick a channel.

I smile as they begin to bicker. Something about having the remote does not equate to having control and somehow comparing it to a dictatorship as Ned continues to abuse his power.

“Hey, uh, Hallie?” Peter’s lip shape into a shaky yet incredibly awkward smile. The kind of smile you’d make when you’re left alone with someone you just met. Or the kind of smile children make when they’ve done a bad thing like eating sweets before dinner and try to cover it up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh, uhh, just go down the hall. It’ll be on your left.”

Pleased, he nods and says ‘thanks’ before rising from the floor and leaving once again.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bothered by Peter’s seemingly lack of interest in me, or at the very least, _trying_ to talk to me. _At least Ned’s trying_.

He was weird during lunch. Staring at me and then all of a sudden, like Medusa, ignores any form of eye contact with me. And the only time he spoke to me was if he asked me if I wanted his seat when we rode the subway, and now when needed to use the bathroom.

My heart may begin to weigh heavier than gold, but I don’t feel rich at all.

A defeated breath escapes me the more I dissect all the wrong things I’ve could’ve done today or all the wrong things I could’ve done when we were kids before and after I had left. But before I could even accumulate a proper thought, Ned’s grumbling pulls me out of it.

“What the hell, MJ?” Ned whines, pouting in defeat as the remote falls into the rightful hands of a sane mind.

She sticks out her tongue and chooses a channel to her liking, eventually finding her way to Animal Planet. A baby zebra is tackled on the dried grass by a lion. It sinks its razor-edged teeth deep into its body, crying out for help.

“Look, Ned,” She chuckles, pointing the remote at the screen. “That’s you ‘n me.”

Sucking his teeth at MJ, he flicks his head forward, huffing at his loss in power.

It doesn’t even take his lips a second to bounce back into its natural curve. And like a child, his attention is quickly absorbed by the beer bottle caps embedded into the surface of the coffee table; his fingers tracing over the designs.

“I remember this!” He says, his eyes still studying the table. “I remember hating coloring on this table because there’d always be these stupid lil on my paper!”

I laugh at the memory, remembering his stubby nose scrunched up in frustration because the table “ruined his work of art”.

“I forgive you,” He whispers to the table, rubbing his hand onto the surface. “I forgive you, but I’ll never forget you ruining my potential.”

As I chuckle lightly, I reluctantly shift the conversation to ask Ned a question and he hums in response. “Does uhh…Does Peter have anything uhh…against me?” My gaze slips away from Ned and onto my fingers twiddling away on my lap. I’m beginning to see that it might’ve been childish to ask since it’s only been the first day. “L-Like does he hate me or something?”

_Do you even have any evidence that he hates you? It’s only been the first day._

_But he didn’t even talk to me, so maybe he does?_

“I think Peter’s happy you’re here again…” Ned’s voice is calm and his words loop around me like a reassuring hug. “You gotta remember, Hallie, he’s awkward. I’m sure he’s happy, but because the dude’s hella lacking in the ‘communicating your feelings department’, it’ll take time for it to manifest.”

I nod at his words slowly as I try to remember all the times he’s been awkward with me when we were little, but I don’t remember. Maybe it’s me, but I don’t remember him being weird with me at all.

“You’re worryin’,” Ned calls attention to my fingers dancing along my lap. He pats my head and tells me to breathe. “You two were the best of friends—even I saw that. Just…ya know…initiate the conversation every once in a while and I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Thanks, Ned.”

Clicking his tongue and sticking a finger gun at me, he tells me not to sweat it. “By the way, where’s Peter?”

I take the time to let my eyes wander around the room and even meander behind the couch and to the kitchen, but he was nowhere in sight. “Uhh, maybe he’s still in the bathroom. I’ll go check on him.”

Rising from the floor, Ned pokes my leg. “Can we order food?”

“You’re not allowed to order Chinese food!” Michelle instigates, sitting up from her comfortable position.

Ned sinks he’s glaring eyes to the back of his head, once again emitting a groan of frustration. “We have a new member!” He retorts. “This is a _must_! We must celebrate!”

“Then why didn’t go out for Chinese when I joined?!”

“We were in Europe, how special can it get?”

Before I’m pulled to mediate the bickering, I slowly step away and go down the hall to check on Peter. The echoes from their fight begin to gradually fade behind me.

From where I stand, the bathroom door is cracked open and the lights are off. I knit my brows together in confusion. Though the apartment is big and wide, there isn’t much to go on, especially since if you’re a guest.

“ _Ow!”_ I follow the source of the disembodied voice, leading to my bedroom.

And there, with his hair ruffled by the wind, swiftly pulling his shirt down, I find a breathless Peter climbing into my bedroom from the fire escape. His brown eyes blink rapidly in fear as he meets my suspicious gaze.

“Why are you –“

“Ph-phone call!” He shouts, cutting me off. “Excuse me?”

“I—I was uhh…I was on a phone call with my uncle.”

“Uhh…Isn’t Uncle Ben dead…?” People can have more than one uncle, sure. I’m well aware of that, I’m not dumb. But I can tell that he’s lying. If he wasn’t wearing pants, it’ll be clear to me he just shat in it.

I’ve met better liars than Peter. Hell, even I’ll admit James is a better one. Whatever he’s hiding must be _so_ secretive he jumps over all the possible excuses and use that.

“I—Different…Different uncle.” His shoulders begin to relax but he balls his hands into a tight fist. Like he’s clenching the rest of his ability to lie in that unyielding grip. “There signal in the room was bad, so I ended up walking out and into the fire escape.”

I want to toy with him, but just the sight of him makes me divert from the idea. Instead I nod my head and excuse it. I don’t have much to go on, and quite frankly, I’m a bit worn out from all the socializing I’ve done today.

His eyes train away from me and onto the wall behind me. Turning around, I find the only picture of my parents hanging on the wall behind me. My lips curve into a small smile.

“You look a lot like your mom now.” Peter mumbles, stepping close to me. “You used to look like your dad when we were kids…”

Laughing lightly, my head hands low as I intertwine my arms over my chest. “Yeah, Aunt May used to call me a ‘Cookie Cutter Richard’ because she couldn’t believe how much I resembled him.”

“Legend has it May screamed when she first saw you as a baby.”

“Did she really?”

He shrugs his shoulders, smiling. “I mean—I guess to. That’s what Uncle Ben used to tell me.”

The idea to confront Peter comes to mind, but with the way the conversation is flowing, I don’t feel the same strong need to ask, so I sweep it under a rug and let it collect dust.

Maybe I just need to meet him halfway.

“I’m happy you’re back.” His words softly trail from his lips, almost missing it. I turn to look at him; he’s fallen back to his sheepishly shy demeanor. “I wasn’t really able to say much earlier because I was busy with a few things, but I really am happy you’re back.”

I relieve a breath and smile at him. “I’m happy too.”

It’s a small moment in the pocket of time that I’ll play on a loop in my head later when I lay in my bed, trying to fall asleep. My heart is on longer weighted in gold, and for the first time since the day began, I can finally breathe easy.

We head back to the living room, following the string of angry words to find Michelle holding a fist as if she was threatening to throw her punches across the room over to Ned as he dials for take-out. I laugh, holding my stomach in my hand as Peter and I watch them from behind.

But just as quick as my lips curved in joy, it fades away. There’s a persistent ringing winding through my eyes as my heart plummets deep into my stomach.

“Is that…?” I can’t finish my sentence as my mind processes the images flashing on the screen. Everyone draws their attention from me to the TV the moment Peter tells them the shut up; Michelle raises the volume.

_“JUST IN: STARK Labs New York building has been set on fire. Authorities speculate this as an act of arson due to the many attempts that have been made in the last month due to the backlash of the shocking release of Spiderman’s identity. Though it had been cleared up by government officials that It was indeed a false accusations, there have been plethora of citizens questioning STARK Industries credibility.”_

“I—I have to go.” In one swift motions, Peter rushes over to his backpack and swings it over his shoulders before heading towards the door. “I intern there,” He explains, his breaths becoming jagged and reckless. “I’m close with Mrs. Stark and a few of the people there. I need to see if I can do anything to help.”

“Th—Then I-I’m going too.” I stumble on my own words, my vision gradually blurs as tears brim to my eyes.

“W—What? Why?”

“Hallie, you don’t have a reason to go there.” Ned inserts himself in the conversation, a quizzical and worried look etched in the outlines of his round face. “You’re safer here.”

“J-James is there!” I huff in frustration. With every determined bone in my bone, I walk over to Peter. “He’s there, Peter. So, I’m going too. Take me with you.”


End file.
